


Backward

by yeaka



Series: Chocono [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chocobos, Ficlet, Gen, M/M, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26165083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto accidentally humans.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Chocono [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577287
Comments: 31
Kudos: 93





	Backward

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They shouldn’t play where loud noises are, a little bit because that means bigger beasts are probably near, and mostly because Ignis would kill them. But Ignis is arguing with Gladiolus, squawking even louder than the sounds whistling through the trees ahead, and Noctis is just too curious _not_ to look. Prompto’s even more inquisitive—he picks cautiously ahead, body hovering low to the ground and talons careful not to break any branches. Noctis breaks around him, head lifting over the gnarled foliage to peer over the steep hilltop—there’s a commotion in the clearing below.

A human has a gigantoad backed up against the rocks. The enormous creature’s serpentine tongue keeps darting out to try and snare the human, but the trim, agile being dances expertly out of the way, waving around a stick in its hands—colourful smoke flies over the big frog’s head. A stray puff misfires towards where Prompto and Noctis are perched, and Noctis hurriedly reels back—he’s been a frog before and never wants to again. Human magic seems to be temporary but pesky, and he was never meant to be anything but a bird. 

Prompto doesn’t dodge fast enough. He _kwehs_ in mortified surprise as the yellow cloud hits him, and then he’s toppling backwards, rolling down the hill they just came up—Noctis jogs after him with a mournful _wark_! Prompto’s wings are beating frantically, uselessly at his sides, shedding feathers every second. His talons claw the air, thickening before Noctis’ very eyes. Prompto’s head tosses back and slides sickeningly closer to his body—his neck’s disappearing. 

Noctis is chilled to the bone. He’s never seen anything more horrifying in his entire life, and that includes the open mouth of Deadeye, that one time it nearly ate him. Prompto’s molting gold faster than he could bleed out, and his whole _shape_ is changing—longer in places and thinner in others, wings becoming round and tiny but long and entirely the _wrong_ colour—his flesh burns pink except for one patch on his head, where the feathers thin to fur and tiny marks dot his face—he looks over at Noctis with big blue eyes instead of black and no beak at all.

He bends at an impossible angle. Body upright, weird, fleshly legs stretched across the ground, wings patting at his new body, Prompto lets out a broken cry. He’s practically radiating panic. Noctis doesn’t know what to do. 

Prompto looks at him, and suddenly, Noctis recognizes the creature Prompto’s become, because they see those gangly beings all over the woods: Prompto’s become _human_.

Even though they’re still around the same size, Prompto’s never looked smaller and more helpless. His whole body’s shaking. Noctis lets out a tiny huff of despair. Prompto was so _cute_ before, the best looking bird Noctis has ever seen, and now he’s...

There’s no other way around it. He’s malformed. He’s _ugly_.

And he seems to know it, too, if his distressed twittering is anything to go by. Noctis takes one wavering step closer. 

He swallows down a lump in his long throat. He reminds himself it doesn’t matter. It’s a horrible shame that Prompto’s not cute anymore, without his pretty plumage and his voluptuous tail feathers and the graceful curve of his neck, but he’s still _Prompto_. So he’s still _Noctis’._ Noctis trots right up to Prompto’s side and butts his head against Prompto’s cheek. It’s disgracefully _smooth_ , but at least it’s still soft. He rubs himself against Prompto and wails consolingly. 

Prompto’s skinny wings fly around Noctis in a heartbeat, locking him in a tight embrace that feels somehow both wrong and right. Noctis tucks his head under Prompto’s chin and _kwehs_ , telling Prompto it’ll be fine. They’ll find a way to make this work. He won’t leave. Noctis still loves him. Always will. It’ll just be a little weird for a while, that’s all. Really weird. But Noctis will absolutely make it work because that’s what a good herd does. 

The bushes rustle, and Noctis is too busy patting his grotesque mate to run away like he should. Gladiolus emerges from them, takes one look at the human planted on the ground, and hurriedly gallops over to try and headbutt Noctis away. Noctis _warks_ at him and rushes back to Prompto’s side. Gladiolus tries shooing Noctis away again, but Noctis stays stubbornly where he is, trying to make Gladiolus understand. It’s not a wicked human. It’s their Prompto. Prompto makes a garbled noise and tentatively reaches for Gladiolus, but Gladiolus snaps at him, and Prompto swiftly withdraws. Noctis seeks out the touch on purpose to show he’s not afraid.

Ignis emerges a second later, holding some big, clear thing in his beak—one of the strange not-forest things Noctis has seen humans carry before. He shrinks back as soon as he meets Ignis’ gaze, because Ignis _glares_ at him. Ignis must’ve seen them approaching the human fight after all. And he’s clearly not pleased about it, but his muzzle’s too full to scold Noctis properly.

He waddles up to Prompto, opens wide, and the thing tumbles out of his mouth to shatter in Prompto’s lap—Prompto yelps as a thick liquid soaks through him. Then he yelps again when a feather grows out right between his eyes. 

He starts flailing. His wings grow more golden with every flap. His body’s expanding outwards, his head lifting, his legs shrinking, and after a few wild twists and turns, he’s a chocobo again, sitting on his ass in the dirt. 

Gladiolus looks shocked. Ignis looks exasperated. Prompto looks dazed. Noctis is _so relieved_ , and he rushes in to tangle his neck around Prompto’s and the black feathers of his hide with Prompto’s pretty yellow ones—he rubs them together and affectionately nips at Prompto’s glorious beak: something he should never be without. 

Prompto practically collapses on Noctis, babbling in obvious relief. Ignis shakes his head at them. Slumping with embarrassment, Prompto hides his face in Noctis’ plumage, while Noctis gives him the snuggle of the century.


End file.
